A funny system LOL
by Jecommenceapeteruncable
Summary: NOT FIC please don't read this if you want sleep tonight mouahhaha love u guy


"You seem like you need someone to talk to," the bartender spoke up, as Derek sat on the stools, twirling his straw around in his drink. He had just left Erica's dorm room, slamming the door behind him. Fighting with her was never something he enjoyed doing, if anything, he hated it. Erica was his best friend since high school, and now they're all grown-up, yet they still have the strength to argue to a point where he escalates. The last thing Derek wanted to do was socialize with other people, which is why he still didn't understand himself why he had ended up in a gay club.

All Derek could do was grunt at the bartender's statement, his left hand tightening around the glass. He hadn't even looked up at the bartender, who seemed to be giving him a lot of attention.

"You're no fun. What are you doing in a club if all you're going to do is brood?" If anything, that sounded exactly like something Erica would say, making Derek's empty hand turn into a fist.

"Woah, didn't mean to tick you off, there," the bartender mumbled, turning back towards the drinks. Derek finally looked up but all he caught was the back of the bartender. He relaxed his hands, downing the rest of his drink before grumpily asking for another one. He could already feel his head get lighter but he didn't care.

"I think you've had enough, big boy," the bartender said, now leaning on the counter, his face lined up with Derek's. They were so close Derek could feel the bartender's breath against his face. That is when Derek finally looked up, about to reciprocate that he was fine, when he finally got a look at the bartender.

He started from the top; His dark brown hair that was neatly combed and sticking out upwards, his beautiful hazel eyes that seemed to light up every time someone gave him attention, his scrawny arms and his nice built-enough body, his long, thin fingers that made Derek's mouth water at the glance of them. He was… he was perfect, in a non-perfect way.

Yet Derek still found himself sulking around the guy. Another grumble escaped his lips, his eyes remaining on the table.

"I don't think a bartender should be telling me how much I can or cannot drink," Derek snarled. The bartender chuckled, backing away, making Derek raise his head slightly.

"I know, but as a friend, I am telling you that you've had enough. I'd like to be able to talk to you later without you stumbling over your words every five seconds. Now, my shift ends in ten minutes, or maybe earlier because the person that comes in after me loves bartending way more than I do, so when he comes and replaces me, I am bringing you to a coffee shop downtown and we're going to bond and drink green tea and I'm going to learn more about you because you're awesome and you're keeping me company during this boring job so you—" Stiles pointed a long finger at his face. "—you stay here, alright? You just, you just sit here, and wait like a patient man, and I'm going to finish, and then we're getting out of here."

Derek usually doesn't smile. He doesn't smirk, he doesn't grin, nothing, but this bartender had actually managed to make him crack a smile.

"I don't even know you. How do I know that's safe," Derek asked, although his voice sounded more like he was saying a statement.

"I am the safest person you will ever meet, trust me. My dad's a sheriff. I wouldn't be able to pull anything even if I tried," he grinned, turning back towards the drinks, before making a swift turn to look back at Derek, a finger in the air.

"Oh! By the way, my name's Stiles. My nickname, actually, my nickname is Stiles. I mean everyone calls me that because I have way too much of a complicated name, and Stiles is the only thing remotely close to it, so—just, just call me Stiles," the boy—Stiles—spoke, his hands placed against the edge of the counter, waiting for Derek's answer. Derek finally allowed himself to make eye contact with Stiles, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"Derek," he mumbled under his breath, but he guessed that was enough since Stiles nodded quickly, before turning back to whatever he was doing.

The empty glass twirled around in Derek's hands as he glanced around the club. He wanted to go dance, he wanted to forget about everything, but for some reason, this boy—Stiles—somehow made him want to stay there. He didn't know how or why, but he didn't budge. He just eyed Stiles, trying to figure him out.

"Why are you doing this? You don't know me either," Derek asked. Stiles shrugged, keeping his back turned.

"You looked upset. I don't mind making strangers happy once in a while."

Derek nodded at Stiles' statement, even though Stiles wouldn't see the nod. Derek continued to stare at his glass, his envy to look up at Stiles growing.

He got lost in his thoughts for so long, his eyes zoomed on his glass that he didn't feel time fly. He didn't realize that it had been over ten minutes, and he did not realize that Stiles was standing next to him, poking at his back until he got his attention. Derek quickly spun in his stool, staring at Stiles. He raised one eyebrow in a questioning look, making Stiles bounce up and down nervously.

"Uh, I'm done my shift. Are we going to the coffee shop, or…?" he nervously asked, his fingers tugging at his coat. Derek nodded, standing up. He trailed after Stiles into the parking lot, giving him a great view on his ass. Derek bit his lip, his gaze turning away. That was inappropriate.

"Do you have a car?" Stiles asked Derek as they stood in the parking lot. "I come here by cab, so…"

Derek and Stiles trailed to his Camaro, Stiles' eyes widening at the sight. Derek immediately rolled his eyes, pushing Stiles to get inside the car. Once inside the car, the only sounds were the voice of Stiles giving directions and the radio playing light music. The rest of the car ride was filled with an awkward silence.

When Stiles finally said to pull over, Derek's mouth dropped open in shock when he realized which coffee shop they were at.

It was Laura's. Laura owned that coffee shop, and it just so happened that she was working.


End file.
